


Only when we are no longer afraid, do we begin to live.

by gmariam19 (gmariam)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, Humor, M/M, POV Finn (Star Wars), Pining, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, bones - Freeform, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/pseuds/gmariam19
Summary: Fives reasons why Poe Dameron does not like bones, plus one more. Because Poe isn't the only one afraid of something.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 19
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

_Only when we are no longer afraid..._

i.

"So why don't you like bones?" Finn asks, the unexpected question leaving his mouth before he can stop it. Maybe it's the chicken on his plate that prompted it, as he sets down the clean bone and takes a sip of guava juice. He's been curious about Poe's comment for weeks, but – well. Other things to worry about and all that. Today has been a relatively slow day, though, at least compared to the rest, and so the question pops out.

"'Scuse me?" Poe asks through a mouthful of rice and vegetables. "What do you mean, why I don't like bones?"

_In for credit_ , Finn thinks. "Back on Pasaana," he says. "When we were in that creepy tunnel. You said you don't like bones."

Poe's face does some funny things that Finn can't quite figure out. Either Poe's confused, or he's embarrassed, or he's trying to even remember saying it. He finally shrugs and continues eating. "Creepy tunnel and all that," he replies. "Giant snakes, dead bodies. Definitely not my idea of a good time in the dark."

Finn can tell Poe's bluffing, even if he's not sure why. He picks up another chicken leg and waves it in the air at Poe before taking a bite, trying not to wonder what Poe means by a good time in the dark and if it's the same thing Finn is thinking. "No, you were definitely freaked out by the bones. What's up with that?"

Poe stares at the chicken leg in Finn's hand, narrows his eyes, then goes back to eating. "I choked on a bone once," he says. "Kind of traumatizing."

"So you what? Avoid bones now?" Finn is skeptical. Poe is totally making it up. "I've seen you eat food with bones. You're eating chicken right now."

Poe looks up from his plate and grins. "Ah, but I always take it off the bone, see?" And yes, that's true when Finn thinks about it. Poe always takes his meat off the bone, and right now he's mixed the chicken into his rice and vegetables. It looks good, and not nearly as messy as Finn's plate.

"And that's it? You choked once and now you avoid bones?"

"Especially in creepy, underground tunnels." Poe gives him another grin, and Finn almost, but not quite believes him.

He'll figure it out, though.

* * *

ii.

"So why do you really hate bones?" Finn asks a few days later as they're waiting for a holocomm from Chandrila. They seem to spend an awful lot of time discussing galactic policy on holocomms now, and even more waiting for them to start. But at least it's better than a lot of other things they could be doing—running, fighting, dying—and it does give them time to talk while they're waiting. Finn likes being able to talk to Poe about things that have nothing to do with the Resistance or the First Order. There are things that they should probably talk about and always avoid, but that's a separate issue. Right now, Finn's still stuck on the bones.

"What?" Poe asks, sounding surprised. "You asked me that a few days ago and I told you—"

"Yeah, yeah," Finn stops him. "That you choked on a bone. And yes, I've never actually seen you eat off one, but I think there's more to it. I don't like yellow fruit, but I don't go around announcing it on missions. Why don't you like bones?"

Poe sighs and leans back. He checks his chrono, as if he's hoping their call comes in and saves him from answering. Finn pokes Poe's foot with his boot when the silence drags on. It must be bad if Poe is so reluctant to share it.

"It's no big deal," Poe finally says with a shrug, as if to emphasize his words, only Poe's shrugs usually mean the opposite. "I had a dog back when I was a kid, on Yavin IV."

"Like, a pet?" Finn asks. That's something he never knew. He'd certainly never had a pet himself—growing up in the First Order had ruined any chance at a normal childhood—and he finds the idea both strange and appealing. He wouldn't mind taking care of another creature, but at the same time, what right does he have to keep it as his own? Shouldn't it be free? He shakes his head of the thought, because this isn't about his repressive upbringing, this is about Poe and his dislike of bones. And Finn always likes hearing about Poe's past. Maybe he's getting a real answer this time.

"Her name was Leia," Poe admits. "I don't know why my dad let me name my dog that, it seems incredibly disrespectful now."

Finn is grinning so big he feels like his face might split. "I cannot kriffing believe I didn't know this." He has a sudden insight. "Wait, you've never told anyone, have you?"

Poe gives him a skeptical look. "Of course not, would you? Do you have any idea what Black Squadron would have done if they'd known I'd named my childhood pet after our general?"

"They would have shown you no mercy," Finn laughs. "I can only imagine how much fun Snap would have had." He trails off, hoping he hasn't ruined the mood, but he also knows they can't pretend they haven't lost people they care about, that they should remember them, especially the good parts. And Snap would have loved this.

Fortunately, Poe grins with him. "And that's exactly why he never knew." He pauses, looks away. "Although, I wouldn't mind so much now."

Finn pats his knee in support, hopes he doesn't say the wrong thing. "I'd be happy to let Pava know, if you like."

Poe bumps him hard in the shoulder, but grins again. "Don't you dare. Or I won't tell you the rest of the story."

Finn laughs as he holds up his hands in surrender. "Fine, it'll be our secret." He kinds of likes knowing something about Poe that no one else knows. "So what happened with Leia—" he can't help the snicker—"that turned you off bones?"

After a glare that he clearly doesn't mean, Poe continues his story. "We were playing outside one day, and I threw a stick for her to get. That's what you do, you know," he adds, probably sensing Finn's confusion. "You throw something for them to bring back to you—a stick, a ball. It's fun. Anyway, it went too far, and it took her a while to come back. My mom had died only a year before, and I still remember the panic, thinking I'd lost my dog, too." He gets a faraway look on his face. "So I was already scared something had got her in the jungle, and then she comes bounding out dragging a huge bone behind her. Which is why I screamed like a dying woolamander until my dad came running out."

Not sure whether he should be concerned for young Poe's traumatic experience or laughing at the image of a canine Leia dragging a bone out of the jungle, Finn waits for Poe to continue. When he doesn't, Finn prompts him. "And? What happened next?"

"Oh, well, my dad was great about it," says Poe, shaking his head with a smile. "I thought for sure my dog had killed someone—one of the neighbors or something. But he pointed out that the bone was picked clean and clearly belonged to a long-dead runyip. He took me inside and made me some fresh koyo juice, and promised never to tell anyone."

Finn can't help but wonder if Poe is making up another story, but decides he won't laugh whether it's true not, so he grips Poe's knee again, because he enjoys the feeling. "Thanks for telling me." He pauses. "If that's really the story."

"Hey, I did not make that up—" Poe starts, and is cut off by the sound of their holocomm coming in. He jumps up with a grin. "Back to work!" he says, as if he's forgotten it already. Finn narrows his eyes and decides he will probably do a little investigating. It might be a good distraction from everything else.

* * *

iii.

"So Jess says you never mentioned having a dog as a kid." Finn brings it up a few days later, still wanting to know the real reason Poe doesn't like bones, still putting off any number of other things they should talk about, like the future. "And neither did Karè or Iolo or C'ai. Chewbacca doesn't think so either, and BB-8 was offended."

"Offended by what?" Poe asks, flipping switches Finn still doesn't understand on the _Falcon_. How can it possibly take so many switches, levers, and dials to fly an ancient freighter?

"I think he's upset that you had a pet you might have loved more than him," Finn replies with a laugh, because jealously is definitely the impression he'd had from the droid. He loves Poe and BB-8's special relationship, it is a heartwarming source of warm moments and laughter.

"BB-8 is _not_ a pet," Poe replies. "And he has nothing to be jealous of. And why were you asking around anyway?"

Finn leans back and watches Poe work the ship for a moment. He really is a damn good pilot, no matter what Rey and Chewbacca think of the way he flies the _Falcon._ He flies it different, like he's piloting a single-man starfighter, and while it doesn't always respond the way he wants it to, he can also do things they'd never even think to try, like lightspeed skipping. It's one thing he loves about flying with Poe: the complete confidence and utter unpredictability of it. It's not like flying with anyone else.

"I don't know," Finn admits, trying not to stare too much. "I guess I don't know about these stories you keep telling me."

"What stories?" Poe glances sideways at him and presses a few more buttons. For all Finn knows, he could have dumped out the trash.

"About the bones," Finn replies. "You were really freaked out in that tunnel. I just want to understand."

"I wasn't freaked out, pal," Poe protests, before pulling one last lever and sending them into hyperspace. "And what's there to understand? I don't like bones. End of story."

"But why?" Finn pushes. "It doesn't make sense. You're Poe Dameron. You charge Star Destroyers in an X-wing. You blew up Starkiller base. You've been adrift in space, chased down First Order agents, gone undercover in all kinds of sketchy situations, and survived crashes, injuries, and dress-downs from the likes of Leia Organa. But bones bother you?"

Poe stares at him, like the impressive list of accomplishments Finn reeled off is complete nonsense. He shakes his head as if he can't even begin to contemplate a reply, and turns back toward the viewport. After a moment, however, he speaks.

"I broke a bone once, when I was a dumb teenager."

Finn waits, like he often does, then offers a comment. "Dumb teenager I can believe, but we've all broken bones before. Why did it bother you so much?"

"I crashed a speeder," Poe tells him with that casual shrug Finn seems to get every time he asks about this. "Speeder was completely wrecked, which was bad enough, but it was also stolen, which was _really_ bad." He turns toward Finn, laying it all out. "And I broke my arm so severely the bone came through the skin. I thought for sure they were going to chop it off, maybe even for punishment."

Finn can't help but smirk. "Seriously? You thought you were going to lose your entire arm because of a broken bone and a stolen speeder?"

"Well, you didn't see it, especially through the eyes of a messed up fifteen-year-old kid," Poe replies, his tone lightly defensive even though he's smiling. "It was a bad break, and I still have a scar."

"And that's your issue with bones?" Finn asks.

"Break a bone crashing a stolen speeder and tell me it's something you won't remember for a while."

Finn is about to tell him that he has broken a bone—several, in fact, and all during training—but he doesn't want to make light of Poe's childhood trauma. Between the dog and the broken arm, apparently life on Yavin IV wasn't all sunshine and rainbows after all.

* * *

iv.

"What the hell is this stuff?" Finn asks, grimacing as he finishes his glass and holds it out for a refill. Whatever he's drinking is both amazing and the most vile liquid he's ever poured down his throat. Finn wants to stop drinking it, and yet he wants another at the same time. The room is spinning, he's hot and practically slurring his words, and yet he's with Poe and pretty sure he's having the time of his life. Jess was absolutely right about blowing off some steam after a long week of chasing down rogue First Order cells; he wonders where she wandered off to, hopes she's all right.

"I can't remember," Poe tells him. They are sitting side-by-side, legs touching, on a log outside the cave on Ajan Kloss, a roaring bonfire before them. "Although I do remember it really fucked us up on Ord Mantell once." He finishes his drink and pours them both more. "It was brilliant and horrifying."

"I feel awful," Finn tells him. "And yet, I also feel fantastic."

"I know, right?" asks Poe. "It's like the best and worst of everything all poured into a glass at once. Cheers." He grins and clinks glasses with Finn. "Kind of reminds me of doing spice."

"You did spice?" Finn asks, frowning. "You said you just worked for them. Transporting it."

"I flew for them, so I tried it a few times." Poe admits with his telltale shrug. "Wasn't really my thing, but this one time…" He shakes his head, then grabs it with his hand as if it may fall off. "This one time was the worst."

"Oh, I need to hear this," says Finn. "Embarrassing stories are good."

"And it has to do bones," Poe tells him with several excited pats to Finn's back. "So you'll like it even more."

"Perfect!" Finn replies. He raises his glass to Poe and tips half back. "Since I don't really believe your other stories."

"Seriously?" Poe frowns, though he looks more sad than confused. Finn reaches over and pats his knee, then leaves his hand there, enjoying the warmth and closeness he knows he should bring up some time, but certainly isn't going to now when he's completely drunk and about to get a good story about bones.

"Poe, I don't know if half the things that come out of your mouth are true sometimes."

"Really?" Poe asks again. "Because I would never lie to you."

His voice is so sincere that Finn is unexpectedly touched and swallows the rest of his drink to cover it. "Well, I wouldn't know if you were because you're good at telling stories. And I like them, so let's hear it."

"Fine, but you probably won't believe this one either, even though it's true."

"Try me."

Poe leans back, and Finn is sure the other man is spinning another tale in his head. The thing is, Poe _is_ good at telling stories, so Finn settles down for the ride. He feels so loose and relaxed, the world is practically perfect. Poe could declare himself the prince of Naboo and ask Finn to marry him, and Finn would say yes and happily wear a crown of flowers on his head for the rest of his life.

"A few years after I started running spice on Kijimi, we had a run to some planet in the Outer Rim—don't even remember what it was called." Finn figures it's probably because Poe is making it up. Or maybe it's the copious amounts of unnamed liquor they're drinking. "Darvid—he was in charge, big ugly Mikoan—had insisted on flying. Apparently, he'd been a hell of a pilot once, could fly the Maelstrom like few others, but he was getting older, not as quick as he used to be. We figured this would be an easy run and he could handle it, but we caught a tail, and he couldn't shake 'em. The ship ended up getting banged up through the Maelstrom, then we took a hit and had to put down on some moon for repairs."

Finn listens with interest. Poe never talks about his past like this, at least not about his time with the spice runners. He isn't ashamed—at least, that's what he claims—but he doesn't like sharing much about that time of his life. He'd been in a bad place when he'd run away from home, and it had taken several years to straighten it all out. He says he prefers to be known as the man he is today, not the dumb kid he'd been fifteen years ago.

Finn's kind of impressed he can think straight and remember that much, even though he's also struggling to stay focused on the story and not Poe's lips.

"It was a rough landing," Poe is saying. "And some of the cargo caught fire. We all ended up _unbelievably_ high. Which might not have been so bad, if we hadn't crashed in the middle of some kind of ancient graveyard. So while it was some crazy fun at first, as soon as we left the ship, we all panicked. Bones _everywhere_. Darvid passed out from the fright, even Zorii shrieked and ran, and she's hard to rattle. I'm pretty sure I never hallucinated and vomited as much as I did that day." He pauses, swirling his glass and looking back at the past. "And Kleg, best mechanic I ever met, they were so far gone they shot themselves in the head. I'd never seen anyone take their own life before." He sighs and scrubs his face with his hands. "And I never did spice after that either."

"But you kept running it," Finn points out. Poe shrugs again, tosses back the rest of his drink, and pours them each another.

"I had nothing else to do," he replies. "I was too scared to go home. I stuck around for less than a year after that, but it was never the same."

"And you hate bones."

"You would too, buddy," Poe tells him. "If you'd seen as many as I've seen."

Finn puts his arm around Poe's shoulders and squeezes, and the other man offers him a smile and a playful push. Finn half wonders if maybe all the stories are true. Or maybe he's had so much to drink he'll believe anything.

* * *

v.

"I kriffing hate this," Poe whispers. The war is over and yet the struggles continue. At the moment, they are evading another bounty hunter determined to capture the two generals of the Resistance, each with a price on their head high enough to run a small star system. It's flattering, but it's the third time they've been targeted since Exegol, and it's distracting and dangerous. Poe is nursing yet another blaster wound to his upper left arm, and Finn should probably wrap his twisted knee in something cold to bring down the swelling. Instead, they are hiding in the crowded smuggler's closet of a kindly old cantina owner who'd given them shelter. Finn can hear the Keshian telling off the bounty hunter and grins at their good luck.

Poe, however, doesn't seem to see it this way.

"Claustrophobic?" Finn asks, though that doesn't make sense given Poe's fondness for single pilot starfighters. Poe's answer is a snort.

"'Course not," he says. "I practically grew up in an A-wing. I hate hiding like this."

"Rather be fighting?" Finn suggests. He knows he would, although he doesn't mind being pressed against Poe in the dark like this, and hopes that's not what is bothering Poe.

"Bad luck with these kinds of situations," Poe murmurs, his breath warm against Finn's ear. He tries not to shudder.

"How bad?" Finn asks. "Like, bad breath bad, or getting caught bad?"

"Neither," Poe admits. "Last time I had to do this, Jess and I were hiding beneath a pile of skeletons."

Click.

"Oh, bones," Finn whispers excitedly in spite of the situation. "What the hell were you doing hiding under a pile of skeletons with Pava? Doesn't sound like a very good hiding place."

"It was awful," Poe tells him. "Like being in a kriffing horror vid. Bones poking us everywhere, and we had to wait for at least an hour before the First Order patrol moved off and we could climb out of the damn pit these villages had hid us in. It was the stuff of nightmares."

"Sounds like it," Finn murmurs. He's distracted by the thought of Poe and Jess crowded together like this, and maybe a little jealous. Of course, he's got Poe practically on top of him, in the pitch black, and it's not like anything's going to happen between them since Finn is too much of a coward to ever bring it up. And if Poe is as terrified as bones as he says he is, then Jess probably spent the whole time talking him out of a panic attack.

"At least there's no bones here," Finn murmurs.

"And I'm glad I'm with you," Poe tells him. There is no guile to his voice; he sounds like he means it, and it makes Finn's chest constrict.

Finn feels Poe shift against him, imagines the other man's lips are close enough to kiss. He wonders if Poe ever has the same distracting thoughts that Finn has, especially at that moment. He takes a breath, not sure how to respond but wanting to say _something_ , only Poe sucks in a gasp and jerks against him, and then Finn feels it too: they are not alone in the smuggler's closet. Something is crawling across their boots.

"Rats," Poe whispers, dropping his head to Finn's shoulder with a shudder. "Why did it have to be rats?"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to finnpoe-wizard, captain-flint, and mssrj_35 for their help! I asked them for ideas about Poe's very random bones comment on Pasaana so I could do a 5+1, and they suggested several that were used here in one way or another! Thank you! No apologies for the IJ reference, since Pasaana Poe was practically Indiana Jones in space. The title is a quote by Dorothy Thompson. Thank you for reading - the last part gets schmoopy so hold on to your hats and get ready to brush your teeth. It should be posted in a day or two!


	2. Chapter 2

…do we begin to live.

Finn finds Poe in his room on the _Organa_ , the new cruiser Ransolm Casterfo had given them in honor of Leia not long after the Battle of Exegol. They'd left Polmanar several hours ago and he's been by himself long enough, so Finn knocks on the door and enters, not sure what to expect.

Poe is sitting in a chair, a glass in his hand as he stares out the window at the stars rushing by. Finn can feel Poe's sadness, see it etched in the lines of his face. He suddenly seems much older, experience lending him a more mature look that Finn finds as handsome as the slightly more carefree pilot he met escaping the _Finalizer._ Glancing up at Finn, Poe smiles, motions at another chair, and somewhere finds a second glass to pour Finn a measure of whatever he's drinking. Finn accepts it gladly, sits across from him, and waits.

The thing is, for as much as Poe likes to talk, he is equally capable of silence when it suits him. Finn has learned that sometimes Poe needs to be prompted to talk when something is bothering him, and something is clearly bothering him. Their mission to Polmanar had been difficult, but Finn senses it's only a part of what has thrown Poe into a more melancholy mood than usual.

"You all right?" Finn asks quietly, and Poe is silent for a moment before he nods.

"I am now," he says. He gives Finn a genuine smile, but Finn rolls his eyes, because he's still not entirely sure how to respond to those kinds of comments. Poe makes them more and more, usually accompanied with a warm touch, and Finn wants to reach over and take his hand and pull him close every time. He can't always tell what Poe means by it, though, so he doesn't. Or maybe he's too afraid of what Poe might mean, might feel. Is it the same as Finn, or completely different?

"You're such a star-gazer," Finn tells him fondly. "You know that, right?"

"Only for you," says Poe, and now he's wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He's a master of mixed signals, or else Finn is a master at misreading them.

"Thanks," Finn replies dryly. "Seriously, though. I know how you feel about these things, and about bones, and that was pretty bad down there."

"So many bones," Poe murmurs, letting his eyes slip closed. Finn tries not to picture the aftermath of the massacre they'd witnessed, half a town laid waste by yet another rogue First Order cell. "So many dead."

"It's not your fault," Finn says, perhaps more sharply than he intends, but Poe nods in agreement.

"I know," he says. "Doesn't make it any better." He finishes his drink and sets it down, leans forward with his elbows on his knees and sighs. "And it brings back so many bad memories."

"You do seem to have a lot of bad experiences with bones," Finn agrees. He's trying to keep it light, not sure if it's the right thing to do, but he knows how easy it is to slip into maudlin thoughts, especially right now.

"You have no idea." Poe sighs, and Finn senses Poe is slipping anyway. "I've seen things like this before. When I was a kid, I came across a mass grave on Yavin IV—scared the hell out of me. When I was in the navy, we took a distress call from a mining platform in the Bespin system and found every last being dead. And a few months before Jakku, Black Squadron was too late to save a small colony in the Allyuen system. Burned to the ground, nothing but ashes and bone." He scrubs his face. "When does it ever end?" he whispers.

Finn leans forward, places his hands on Poe's knees in a familiar gesture. Eventually Poe looks at him, a crooked smile on his face. "Sorry," he says immediately. "I don't mean to be so morose, but—"

"You don't have to apologize," Finn tells him. "You have every right to be upset. Hell, I'm upset. It shouldn't have happened. That's why we keep fighting, so it doesn't keep happening."

"But that's the problem, it _keeps_ happening!" Poe exclaims, and he stands, leaving Finn behind as he starts pacing his quarters. "We took out almost everything they had at Exegol. We've taken out a dozen star Destroyers since then. We're hammering out treaties across the galaxy, and yet _it's still happening!"_ He throws his hands in the air. "What are we doing wrong? Why can't we stop them for good?"

"Poe, we're doing everything right, everything we can. It's not our fault—it's not _your_ fault."

"But _I_ need to stop it," Poe tells him, his voice desperate and fierce. "Once and for all, before the entire galaxy is destroyed. Only I'm tired of it, Finn. I'm tired of fighting again and again and still losing so much."

Finn stands and walks over to where Poe is staring out the window again, his face a mixture of sorrow and defeat. "We will stop them, Poe. I promise we will. We're almost there, you just have to hang on a little longer."

"Finn, I've been doing this for years." Finn can hear the weariness in his voice now. "And every time something like this happens, it's another nightmare that wakes me up at night. It would be nice to dream about peace for once. To look forward to the future."

"Then dream about peace," Finn tells him. "Look forward to the future." Poe scoffs, but Finn steps up beside him and turns sideways, trying to catch his eye. "I'm serious. Tell me what it would be like."

"What?" Poe asks, suddenly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You're tired of fighting," says Finn. "I get it. We kicked their ass at Exegol, but it hasn't ended. The First Order had years to grow when the Empire fell, so it's going to take time to really finish them off. But when we do, what's it going to look like?"

Poe stares at him, then shakes his head. "I don't know. I don't think about it much, because there's always another crisis, another battle."

"Then think about it now," Finn says. He's not sure why it's suddenly so important, but he feels like it is, for both of them. It's something Finn thinks about all the time, but never talks about: the future, _their_ future. Together. And Poe's right: it's been years of fighting, and by most standards, they've won. That people are still dying is not right, and Finn will keep fighting until it's over, until there is peace. But he's not Poe. Finn lived a completely different life before he joined the Resistance. Poe had been fighting for years by the time he met Finn, and has seen even more since. He's worn down and disillusioned, they all are, and the bones of the dead are a stark reminder that it's not over yet.

"What does peace look like," Finn says, resisting the impulse to take Poe's hand and hold tight. "The future you're fighting for? What does it _feel_ like? Because you need to hold on to that. It _will_ happen, I know it will. Maybe not tomorrow, or even the day after. But a year from now, or a few years—it'll happen. The First Order has already so many battles, they will not win the war."

"You give a good speech," Poe murmurs.

"Not if it doesn't work," Finn points out dryly. "So what does the future look like?"

Poe takes a deep breath, turns toward him, and nods. Maybe he has thought about it, more than he's admitting. "Fine, I'll play. I'm not in charge," he starts, and holds up a hand before Finn can protest, because Poe is a great leader and Finn can't imagine anyone else leading them. "At least, not of all this. Give me a squadron, a fleet, whatever. I'm a pilot and I can lead pilots. I'm not a politician."

"Not with your smart mouth," Finn murmurs under his breath, earning a smile.

"As a pilot, I'm still flying. But we're peacekeepers now, and defense against outsiders. We're not fighting an offensive war against the Empire, or the First Order, or some criminal gang who thinks they can take over a few systems because no one's paying attention. And peace means taking the time to actually live the life we fought so hard for."

Poe's whole body relaxes, and a genuine smile lights his face. "Living means making a home, maybe back on Yavin IV, by my dad's place. It means settling down rather than running all the time. Waking up late because I can, doing whatever I feel like once in a while, even if it's nothing. Trying new things, exploring new places, and not because I'm chasing the bad guys, but because I want to see what good there is in the galaxy, not the bad." He takes a deep breath and finishes. "Living means being with my family and my friends, not losing them."

Finn's mouth falls open a little bit in shock. He's never thought of Poe as someone to settle down. He's always seen Poe as a man who was born among the stars, lived among the stars, and would die among the stars. That Poe wants something so normal is unexpected, and yet maybe the most natural thing in the galaxy for a man with so much passion and spirit. Of course he doesn't want to fight, he wants to fly and follow his dreams. He wants to _live_.

"That sounds amazing." Finn finally manages to respond. "And you can have all those things. I promise, you will live that life, even if I have to take down every single First Order ship that's left by myself." He's not sure where that came from, but he's said it and he means it. Poe deserves that life, and Finn will do anything for him to have it. Poe and every other being who's fought for it.

Poe gives him a quirky smile that Finn can't quite read. "Thanks, but what about you? What does your future look like?"

Finn swallows thickly, because at that moment all he wants is what Poe wants. He can't imagine anything better than the life Poe described, and he wants that life _with_ Poe. Which is clearly not an option, because Finn is not a pilot, and he plans to train with Rey at some point to learn how to use the Force. He wants to help other Stormtroopers like him, and maybe even find his family someday—none of which involve Poe's life as a leader, a peacekeeper, enjoying time on Yavin IV with his family. Thinking of the future suddenly makes Finn sad, and he turns away, gazing out the window in much the same way he found Poe.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Poe asks. "Don't you see a future? You yelled at me to figure it out so I can fight for it. Now it's your turn."

Finn nods, takes a deep breath. He can feel Poe standing close beside him as he speaks quietly.

"I want all those things, too," he says softly. "Peace. A home. I also want to learn about the Force, and help others like me who've left the First Order. And I want to try and find my family, like Jannah is." He turns, finds Poe closer than ever. And yet he feels like their futures are so different, there may as well be lightyears between them. "But I don't want to do any of it alone."

Poe's eyes crinkle at the corners. "Me neither, buddy. Me neither."

Finn wants to say something, to shout "Let's do it all together, then!" and pull Poe into a passionate embrace, but he's not sure that's what he sees in Poe's face. It could be hope, for a life together, yet it could be acceptance of their separate paths. And then Poe takes a step closer.

"Have I told you about the tree Luke Skywalker gave my mom?" he asks.

"You mentioned it to Rey once," Finn replies, wondering about the non-sequitur. Poe's hand twitches, as if he is stopping himself from reaching out, from touching Finn.

"It's a tree, but it's a special tree. It's Force-sensitive. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but even I can feel something around it. I spent hours with that tree, especially after my mom died." There is a pause. Poe glances away, and Finn watches him swallow hard before meeting Finn's eyes with an intense look. "How would you feel about seeing Yavin IV when this is done? When it's all over and we can live out these big plans of ours…" He swallows again, and Finn suddenly realizes that Poe is _nervous._ It makes Finn's heart jump in his chest.

"What if we traveled the galaxy, looking for your family, helping other troopers, finding the good and keeping an eye on this peace we're working so hard for, before going back to Yavin, where you could see this amazing tree and learn about the Force and—"

Poe stops talking as Finn places his hand on Poe's chest, a familiar gesture of connection; he places his other around Poe's waist and pulls him a little bit closer—not something they usually do. Poe doesn't seem surprised, though. One hand comes up to take Finn's hand, holding it against his chest, and the other arm wraps around Finn's lower back. He looks less nervous, more confident, and Finn can _feel_ that something has changed between them.

"Is that a yes?" Poe murmurs.

"Depends on the question," Finn replies. He needs to be sure, after all. He's still terrified this isn't what he thinks, that it'll all crumble and disappear in an instant if he blinks.

"Well," Poe says, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not asking the _big one,_ if that's what you're thinking."

"I should hope not," Finn murmurs. "Not sure we're there yet." Poe hums enigmatically, and Finn pulls back in surprise. "Wait, what does that mean?"

"It means, maybe someday," Poe replies quietly. Finn can feel something big coming. "When we're ready. Right now, I'm just asking if you want to see my special tree."

Finn stares at him, watches the crooked tilt of Poe's lips curve up, and bursts out laughing, laying his forehead on Poe's shoulder as he shakes with nervous joy. "Sorry," he says, trying to stop and failing. "Really, I'm sorry—I know we were having a moment there."

"Well, it _was_ getting a bit intense," Poe murmurs with a chuckle of his own. And then he is nuzzling his chin against the side of Finn's head and Finn almost stops breathing. "Finn?" Poe's voice is so quiet that Finn can barely hear him, and his throat is suddenly so tight he can hardly reply. They are cheek to cheek, and he manages to nod in reply.

"I want that future you just promised me," Poe murmurs. "But I want you to be there." His voice cracks. "With me, if that's what you were thinking."

"I was," Finn whispers against his cheek. "If you'll be there with me." He presses a kiss to Poe's warm skin, reveling in the feel of it, the taste of it, the sound of Poe's breath catching in his throat, the feel of Poe's arm tightening around him.

"I will always be with you," Poe says. He turns his head so that his lips are next to Finn's, but he doesn't move forward. He gazes into Finn's eyes for a long moment. "If you're sure."

"If I'm sure?" Finn raises an eyebrow. "Would I be standing here right now, like this, if I wasn't? Are _you_ sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." Poe is so sincere, and so earnest, that Finn can feel it in his soul. He also can't help but grin as he leans forward and kisses Poe, catching him completely by surprise and loving it. Poe gasps into him, his eyes closing as a low moan that sounds like Finn's name escapes. He pulls Finn close, and Finn wraps his arms around Poe, and everything is perfect for one shining moment.

This is his future, right here, and he's no longer afraid of wanting it, of claiming it. He only knows he doesn't want to lose it. Ever.

"Poe?" he murmurs against the other man's lips. "We can start living that future now, right?"

Poe looks dazed as he kisses Finn once more before resting his cheek beside Finn's again. "If you mean the part about living it together, then yes." He holds Finn tight, gently swaying as if they are dancing. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"For what?" asks Finn, half dazed himself. He can't believe that something so horrible—war and death—has brought them so close. That something he's wanted for so long is actually happening. That the future suddenly looks so much brighter with Poe by his side.

"For reminding me of what I'm fighting for," he says. "I've always fought for others, for those who can't, for those I've lost, for my parents." He turns his head to gaze into Finn's eyes. "Now it's for you."

"You don't have to fight for me," Finn tells him. "You've got me. How about we fight for _our_ future?" He smirks. "And how about we explore some of that future right now?"

Poe frowns. "And spoil the surprise?" he asks. Finn blinks once, twice, and then Poe laughs. "I don't like surprises, let's start now." He kisses Finn long and hard, their tongues exploring with increasing fervor, hands roaming as Poe guides them toward his bed.

As they tumble together, Finn sets aside the future to concentrate on the present. For right now, he is with Poe. And he's no longer afraid, because he knows the Force brought them together for a reason back on the _Finalizer_ , and that this is it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Naturally, when I started this story, I did not set out to write such a schmoopy ending. But as I moved closer and closer to the final bones scenario, it became clear that this was where the story was going: away from the more humorous bent of the opening, and toward a more serious turn at the end. Ah well, we follow were the muses lead, I suppose. I hope the title makes sense, it sort of hit me when I read it and solidified the overall form and idea of this. Again, so many thanks to finnpoe-wizard, captain-flint, and mssrj_335 for their ideas and assistance! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
